Luyện nghe bài hát English Fire

Seven brides serve me seven
seas writhe for me
From Orient gates to
to Thessaly

And sing from stern
But now I to play
For I to return to woodland ferns
Herne and his wild huntress lay

Now the are turning, spurning the darkness
The great purgations of distinguished
Are but in time to the thrill that Im once more
to the bedding of her English shores

The wind bickered in Satanic sails
flickered in deep thickets of trees
And mists clung tight in panic to
When spoke her soul to me

From Imbolg to
Lughnasadh to feasts
I heard her lament as blent
Together a chimerical

Now the tidal are churning in darkness
The celebrations of extinguished
Are but in time to the chill that climbs once more
Dreading the red weddings on her English

are the rustic summers of my youth
Cruel cut their sacred throats
With polished scythes that reap
Pitch skies and forest smoke

And the hosts I saw there
of carrion law
Drove the ghosts of my
To rove and rally more

One of her sons from the far flung
Come home to
The line of the Leonine
over pestilent fields

Now the tidal are burning in darkness
The of her hungry sword
Shalt like wine from the hills to chines that pour
Spreading her beheadings on these English

For the hosts that I saw
of carrion law
Drove the ghosts of my
To and rally once more

is a waking for England
From its doze
is a waking for England
Lest hope and glory are as foes